Liar, Liar
by Pyralis Anacreon
Summary: Second Year AU. The Chamber of Secrets goes differently, and Harry winds up in an Azkaban cell across from one Sirius Black. A story told in drabbles. No bashing, even if it might seem like it at first. Link to Russian translation on my profile.
1. Part One

Liar, Liar

* * *

Second Year AU. The Chamber of Secrets goes differently, and Harry winds up in an Azkaban cell across from one Sirius Black. A story told in drabbles. No bashing, even if it might seem like it at first.

* * *

Prisoners

Sirius Black woke in an instant.

It was a useful skill, one he'd taken time to perfect. After all, the human guards would think it strange to find a black dog snoozing where there was supposed to be a mass-murdering man.

He still waited until the last possible second to turn back. Every second he spent in human form was another second the Dementors had to strip away his sanity, which was something he'd need in order to escape.

And Sirius Black was not going to rot away in prison, not with the rat on the loose.

The human guards rounded the corner with a new inmate floating between them. That was a lot gentler than the treatment most got, being dragged by arms along the rough stone. The figure was also surprisingly small, almost child-like. But the youngest ever prisoner had been sixteen and convicted of some very dark magic. Maybe this wizard was just a midget.

The guards stopped in front of Sirius' cell, causing him to scramble backwards and try to make himself as small as possible. They weren't known for their kindness to the prisoners; if Azkaban's guards were to be believed, it was all too common for a wand to accidentally shoot off a few hexes without the wizard's knowledge.

Instead of stopping to curse him, the guard in front opened the cell across from Sirius' and the second one swished his wand to send the new prisoner drifting through the door. A soft wave and the prisoner was set down on the cell's one, rock-hard bed.

The first guard closed the gate and both stood there, just watching. One sighed.

"Are you sure...?" Two asked.

"No, I'm not bloody sure. But Albus Dumbledore is." One replied, shaking his head.

"But it's-" Two gestured widely at the cell, unable to find words that aptly described what it was.

"I know. Hard to believe." One said.

They hung around for only a few seconds after that, and left.

Sirius heard their entire conversation. As soon as they were out of sight, he changed form and crept up to the bars. The figure was lying down on the bed still; he couldn't see its face. Sirius settled in to wait, ignoring the hunger pangs in his stomach. He had time.

Two days later, the new prisoner finally rolled out of bed. Neither inmate had moved much in that time; Sirius only to drink the water brought to his cell and ignore the food, and the prisoner hadn't moved at all.

Sirius watched as he looked around, his back to Sirius' cell, and then the prisoner turned.

All the breath left Sirius' body. He was shocked out of his Animagus form.

Harry Potter was in Azkaban.

* * *

Traitors

What could he say?

'Hi, Harry, I'm Sirius Black. Yeah, the mass murdering one. You probably think I killed your parents and in a way I really did by suggesting that traitor rat be Secret Keeper instead of me. But I'm sure you can forgive me that and we can be like two peas in a pod, yeah?'

Yeah, right. Even Sirius didn't forgive himself for that monumental screw up, Harry would hate him even if he knew the truth.

'Hi, Harry, I'm the reason you grew up with a mum and dad. Wanna escape together?'

'Hi, Harry, I love you like my own son, whatcha doing in Azkaban?'

Actually, that last one posed a good question. Unless Sirius had lost even more time in here than he thought and Harry had turned out to be a a midgit of Flitwick's brand, the kid was way too young to be in Azkaban.

While his brain was trying to think up some orders to give, Sirius' mouth took over.

"You have your mother's eyes." He said.

Oh, yeah, that's not creepy at all.

Sirius had perfected the insane inmate look. Wide eyes, sunken cheeks, a perpetual half-manic-grin half-tortured-scream. He only wished he had had time to wipe that crazy look off his face before Harry registered who his neighbor was. It didn't help at all that his grin had an accidental hint of 'I'm a psychotic nut job' to it.

Harry regarded Sirius coolly, one eyebrow raised. Sirius distantly felt a Dementor coming closer on its rounds, the familiar despair rising up. He pushed back, though, and stared at Harry. Harry, who didn't seem to even notice the evil creature's approach.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

Sirius tried to clear the grin from his face but it refused. "Sirius Black." He said. And waited.

What would Harry do?

In response, the boy's eyes narrowed in thought. "You're the one they think is Voldemort's right-hand man."

Sirius rushed to his own defense. "They're wrong-I'm not-!"

Harry snorted and looked away. "Of course you're not. Wormtail was the Secret Keeper."

"How-How did you know? Do they know?"

"Ron's rat is missing a finger on its one paw. The same finger that is said to be the only thing left of Peter Pettigrew. And no, they don't know you're innocent, because I wasn't entirely sure until just now. And they won't believe either of us now."

"But proof! If you know where the rat is, they can at least try-I never got a trial. They'd owe me that." Sirius said, desperate. Years and years and years he'd wasted away in this prison and now...

And now he couldn't leave, not without Harry.

"Who's Ron?" Sirius asked.

"My..." Harry looked down and wiped at his face with one sleeve of the gray prisoner's suit. "My _former _best friend."

"What happened? Why are you in here?"

"The Chamber of Secrets. You know the legend?" Sirius nodded. "It was opened. All year people were being petrified left and right. Everyone was so scared. They-they thought it was me. That I was the heir of Slytherin, because I can speak in Parseltongue. But there was no proof and the Headmaster believed me when I said I wasn't.

"And then, near the end of the year, Ron's little sister Ginny went missing. There was a message in blood on the wall that she was in the Chamber, and she would die down there. Hermione, I thought she was my friend too, she figured out where the entrance was and how to get in and what Slytherin's monster was. A Basilisk. She was petrified and Ron and I went down to the Chamber. Ron got stuck behind a rock collapse and there was Lockheart there, and I went on to the Chamber alone."

Harry had to stop for a moment, to regain his voice and wipe away the tears.

"I tried to save her, I did. She was being possessed by a spirit, one that made her open the Chamber for the Basilisk to kill muggleborns around the school. But no one died, only got frozen. Her magic was sucked away and then Ron finally got through the rocks and he saw me there with Ginny, and the spirit was gone and the Basilisk was dead, and Ginny was dead, and he thought-" Harry's throat closed again.

"He thought I killed her.

"They all testified against me, Ron and Hermione and even Dumbledore. Lockheart. 'Character witnesses' who were really classmates from my school. They all said I'd been terrorizing the school for months and I was sentenced to life in Azkaban."

Throughout the tale, Sirius watched his godson struggle to maintain composure and fail, and wanted nothing more than to console the boy. And maybe rip out these people's jugulars with his Animagus' teeth. "How old are you?" He asked, instead.

"Twelve."

"Harry." Sirius tried to get the boy's attention. "Harry, I'm going to get us out of here. We're going to escape."

Harry looked up, hope shining in his eyes. "You... think we can?" He asked in a half-whisper, as if afraid to speak it too loudly.

"I'll get you out of here." Sirius promised.

_If it's the last thing I do.

* * *

_

Beasts

"Can you feel it?" Sirius asked. "It's supposed to be like, a buzzing all around you. That's what it was for your father and me, anyway. Don't force it. The change will be hard the first time but if you force it you can get stuck halfway through."

Becoming an Animagus was a long, difficult and danger-ridden process. There was a potion to figure out your animal-they didn't have that, and so Harry had no picture to focus on, which made it that much harder. There was a spell to make the body accept the change easier, and a spell to make the mind accept it, and a spell for just about everything. They didn't have those, either.

That's why Sirius was thoroughly convinced his godson was on a power level with Merlin himself, and a genius, and just all around amazing. Harry had managed to make it to the final stage in just a year, where it had taken the Marauders three. Now all the boy had to do was actually change.

Sirius couldn't wait to find out what Harry's form was. Hopefully, small enough to fit through the bars. Sirius himself was skinny enough as a dog to squeeze through already.

"I think I've got it." Harry said. His eyes were scrunched up in concentration.

A year in Azkaban had not done him well. The prisoners were well-fed, but no sunlight reached them. Harry's skin was pale and unhealthy-looking, his green eyes too bright and too big, even behind the dirty glasses. Sirius was just glad the boy seemed immune to the Dementors' effect; they had concluded that it might have something to do with Harry surviving the killing curse, or something to do with the Potter ability to do impossible things.

Clomping footsteps suddenly rounded the corner into their cell block, and Sirius looked at Harry.

"Harry," He whispered. "Harry, someone's coming. Stop!"

Harry gave no sign that he heard. He was getting fuzzier around the edges, going through the transformation in slow motion. Too fast, too slow. Harry would be caught-Sirius couldn't lose another one of his family!

The footsteps stopped three cells away. The guard was distributing meals. Harry's pale skin was sprouting dark fur.

Two cells. Harry's ears became triangular and moved to the top of his head. His legs cracked quietly as the bone and muscle structure was forced into a different position.

One cell. The guard would be able to see partially into their cells now. Harry's black fur melted him into the stone background of his cell. Sirius heard more bones popping, skin shifting.

The guard stopped in front of Harry's cell and looked up at the platters floating above his head. One descended slightly, and the guard swished his wand at the door.

He looked into the cell.

It took two seconds for the human guard to register an empty cell. It took Harry two and a half to slip out the open cell door and attack him.

Sirius changed form and barked, shoving his way through the bars on his own cell. Harry hit the man hard enough to send his head cracking against the ground; he did not move again. The platters of food clattered to the stone floor around them.

Sirius stopped in his tracks as he tried to figure out what Harry was. Canine, definitely. But whereas Sirius' dog's head was blocky, with floppy ears, a thick body and whip-like tail, Harry's ears were pointed, his face was made of sharp angles, his body was lean and his tail bushy. Instead of Sirius' sleek and shiny coat, Harry had thick, coarse fur, notably denser around his neck and shoulders.

_He's a wolf. _Sirius realized.

Harry-the-wolf stepped off the guard's body and looked back at Sirius.

_What now?_ He was asking.

Sirius' tail wagged uncontrollably. _Now we leave._ He sniffed the air, caught the guard's scent. _This way.

* * *

_

Breakout

Azkaban was an island sitting high in the sea. Waves lapped against cliffs in all directions, and hid dangerous rocks beneath their cold, steel-gray surfaces.

Most of the Dementors guarding the island weren't inside the prison walls. They instead were stationed in three rings around the edges, in such numbers that an escapee would be incapable of passing through even if the Dementors for some reason didn't try to suck out their soul.

Harry and Sirius ran straight through the lines, and jumped off the edge with no time to hesitate. They sailed over the rock at the bottom of the cliff and landed some four feet below the waves. They swam.

Sirius didn't know how long it took. Looking back on it later, the journey was a black and white blur. Spikes of color, where he thought he'd lost Harry in the waves, and mind-numbing cold. Going on and on. Not caring if he died here, because at least he died doing something. At least he died free.

And then sand under his paws.

It was a sandbar, just barely in sight of shore. Harry stumbled up onto it behind him and they looked at each other. Sirius was so tired, but he could make it to shore for Harry. Harry would need someone to take care of him. James would be so proud of Harry. And he'd thank Sirius for taking care of his son. And Lily would scold him for ever giving Harry to Hagrid...

Sirius shook the memories out of his head, and started for shore.

* * *

Rat

Sirius had stolen four different wands from four different wizards, but none worked for Harry. He kept the one that reacted best to him and gave the boy a knife instead. Two of the wands were snapped viciously and the last was a reserve.

Harry's body was perfectly suited for traveling long distances; he fell into an easy lope without ever trying and Sirius' dog form had trouble keeping up with the wolf's power. Harry's thick, coarse fur kept him warmer in the rain and only Sirius' sense of smell was sharper. He didn't have Harry's instinctive knowledge of direction.

Sirius needed to stop more often that Harry did, needed to eat more, felt hunger gnawing in his stomach and an ache in his paws from all the unaccustomed running. Harry tried to assure Sirius that it was just because the man had wasted away for thirteen years and Harry only for one; Sirius knew better.

Harry was just stronger.

They reached the Weasley house just in time to watch through the window as the family Flooed away.

Sirius regained human form for the first time in a week, Harry a second behind him. The wards hadn't protected against Animagi-a lazy oversight-and so the two had free reign over the house.

Harry found a Hogwarts letter in Ron's bedroom and Sirius found the date on the magical calendar. The Weasleys were just going to Diagon to pick up school supplies. A forget-me-not note was pinned next to the calendar, reminding Molly Weasley to bring Scabbers to the Magical Menagerie to get the rat tonic.

"They'll be back, with the rat." Harry assured Sirius.

The man stared into the distance, and said nothing. He got like this sometimes; usually Harry would just ignore it.

It was nearing dinner when the Weasleys finally returned, happily exhausted and bearing second-or-third-hand supplies. Two shadows settled in a young boy's room and waited with all the patience of a predator that knows the prey will soon be right before it.

Sirius had hid their scent and they crouched silently in secret corners of the room; the rat had no warning. It curled up to sleep at the foot of the boy's bed and slept alongside its owner. Sirius pounced then, the twin blows from his paws stunning it long enough for his now-human hand to close on the tail. He then swung it wildly and there was a dull thump as it collided bodily with the bed post.

The furry body slumped, knocked out.

Sirius became aware of his surroundings then; Harry in wolf form crouched on Ron, one paw cutting off the boy's air and ability to scream. Weasley's hands struggled at the wolf's sides, trying to shove it off.

"I'll understand if you want to kill him, Harry." Sirius rasped. Harry's friend had betrayed him just like the rat had betrayed Sirius.

The wolf looked at him, unconcerned with the body struggling beneath him. It whined, then looked back down at Ron. The boy's movements had slowed and he was visibly gasping for air. Soon, he too was unconscious.

"Let's take care of the rat, first." Harry said, quickly switching to human form.

Harry's human form was stick-thin and pale, with hollow eyes and dull black hair that hadn't seen grooming in months. The unnaturalness of his bright green eyes staring out from under wild locks creeped Sirius out and Harry preferred to be a wolf anyway, so lately he'd been spending less and less time human.

It showed in the jerky, almost unfamiliar movements. Harry's fingers tended to curl into claws and he had to concentrate to make them work the right way. His upper body stayed hunched, close to the ground and ready to drop onto all fours at any moment.

It worried Sirius.

* * *

Innocence

"Are you sure you can do this?" Harry asked Sirius.

The knife trembled in the man's hand. He stared at the still body on the ground. "I-James-he killed. He's the reason they're dead. And I can't. I can't. Kill. Him." Sirius stuttered.

"Yes you can." Harry's voice said. He was standing behind Sirius, not in sight. "Just think about it. That night. Finding the house burnt to the ground, Lily and James Potter dead in what was the living room. His head completely taken off, her body tossed there carelessly. Blood, and ash, and fire. A little baby wailing from somewhere in the rubble. Choking on the smell of smoke and burning flesh. Her eyes still open and pleading, but dead. All of them dead because of-!"

Sirius tore himself away from the memory forcefully, and fell upon the body of the man he'd once called his friend. The knife clattered out of his hand because it wasn't a hand anymore, but a paw. It wasn't so much rage clouding his thoughts as memories of that night, bringing up all the old fury and hatred like it was fresh. a minute ago this comfortable haze had seemed a million miles away but now he remembered.

And he wanted revenge.

"Peter Pettigrew." Harry finished, his tongue curling around the name with something like relish.

* * *

Wolf

Sirius stared at the mutilated body with empty eyes. The hate wasn't gone, he was just too tired to sustain it anymore. It lurked below the surface, but he could feel it now. A sea of blood, just waiting to be spilled.

"I never told you the house burned down." He said. The words didn't break the numbness like he'd half-hoped, half-feared they would.

"Must've been someone else. Hagrid." Harry replied to the not-question offhandedly.

"I never told you how I found your parents." _And Hagrid would never have given those details to a child_. Sirius was very glad for the calm now. If it hadn't been there, he was sure that would've come out as a scream, or a whimper.

"Must've been someone else." Harry said again.

* * *

Time

Sirius had his revenge, and Harry's waited for him at Hogwarts.

Harry spoke their names with none of the betrayal Sirius felt at the rat. In fact, he said 'Hermione' almost fondly, but with an undertone of 'such a waste'. 'Ron' was derisive, an afterthought with the potential to be a bigger player-potential Sirius was sure Harry thought would be wasted. And 'Dumbledore' with hate and respect. And fear.

"Dumbledore could've asked for a fair trial, you know." Harry stated. "And if he asked, they would've given one no matter the evidence. If he tried, he could have kept you out of Azkaban."

"I know." Sirius said.

"Which means he's partially responsible. Mostly, even. If he'd just accepted when the Potters asked him to be their Secret Keeper, none of this would've happened. They'd still be alive."

Sirius ignored that he'd never told Harry about his parents asking Dumbledore to be their Keeper, and focused. "Harry, I don't think revenge..." He trailed off at Harry's blank, attentive stare. The boy was starting to spend more time in his human form again, which meant that he was emotionally stable enough that he didn't need the wolf's smaller, less complicated brain to think things through. Sirius didn't want to drive him back to that. "Is it really going to change anything?" He ended feebly.

"Oh, it's going to change everything, Sirius." Harry smiled. "And besides, didn't it feel good? Avenging James, like he would've wanted you to?"

It hadn't, but Sirius wasn't going to say that to James' son. Harry would know best what his father wanted-they had the same determination and the same face. And those were Lily's eyes, even if she'd never looked at him like that. (Except when she was dead, Sirius' mind supplied. Glassed over and with an utter void behind them.)

* * *

Smoke

Hermione Granger wasn't a beautiful girl. Her hair was too frizzy and her front teeth too big-but she had a nice bone structure and magic could take care of the two biggest glaring faults. If everything had gone right, if the world was fair and people were good, Sirius could see this thirteen-year-old girl in seven years, settling down with Harry to a nice dinner with her family and his, holding hands and playing footsie under the table.

But the world wasn't fair, things had gone very wrong, and Sirius was more sure every day that people were inherently _bad_.

So he was guarding a stupefied little girl while his godson went out and fetched Ronald Weasley. Harry was charmed to look like Hermione, a very nice piece of work in Sirius' opinion, and he was armed with a very believable story about Harry/Hermione having seen Ginny Weasley out by the Whomping Willow-Ron had to come quick, before Ginny got herself hurt, oh the poor girl didn't know the tree was homicidal!

And when they were close enough, Harry's wolf form was strong enough to drag Ron down the tunnel to the Shack.

"Ugh." Hermione groaned, sitting up. Sirius twirled his stolen wand in one hand and wished for his old one back. With the amount of power he'd put into that Stupefy, if he had a wand matched to him the girl would've been out for _weeks _without an ennervate.

Sirius raised his wand to stun her again. Her hand shot up, and she shouted, "Wait!"

The girl winced right after, as if expecting a blow anyway. But Sirius paused. He didn't know why, but he paused.

"You're Sirius Black." She said, staring.

"I don't need you to tell me who I am." Sirius replied. He wasn't _that _far gone yet, that he forgot his own name.

"And Harry's with you. Where is he?" She searched the room with her eyes.

"Not here." Sirius' wits returned to him, and he went to stun her again.

"Wait, _please_! I don't know what he said-_please_!" She was frantic, dissolving into a mess of tears and desperation. "_We know you're innocent!_"

The world froze and Sirius with it. He couldn't move, or breathe.

"Ron said Sirius Black and a wolf broke into his room, took his rat!" Hermione sobbed quickly. "P-professor Lupin heard-he asked-a picture! Animagus, he saw what you did, a toe missing, Peter Pettigrew. We know-you were never the Secret Keeper! We know!"

They knew! He was innocent and they knew it, he and Harry could stop hiding-

"You betrayed Harry." Sirius said. He didn't care about his own innocence, because Harry was still convicted on false charges and Harry mattered more than anything.

"No!" She cried. "I don't know what he told you, but it's a lie!"

Sirius should've stunned her then, but his arm wouldn't move through the right motions.

"The Chamber of Secrets was opened." Hermione said. "Ginny Weasley was possessed by a spirit."_ Harry said all this already. _"The spirit of Lord Voldemort at the age of sixteen." _...He didn't say that. _"Ginny was taken hostage into the Chamber, I was petrified, and Harry and Ron went to save her. They made Lockheart come along, and they walked into a trap. Ron was stuck behind a rock slide, only Harry was on the right side, the wrong side, oh my god." Hermione had to take breath deeply to force the hysteria away. "Ron made it through in time to see-to see. Harry. Stab a book that was the spirit's anchor with a basilisk fang. But the spirit was too strong already, too strong to fade away and too weak to become its own person. It-Ron saw it go into Harry. He saw Harry fall and Ginny wake up."

"And then Harry Potter woke up in the Hospital Wing." A new voice joined in. It was Harry(_?_) standing in the doorway, his gaze cold and smug and knowing. "In the six minutes he managed to stay in control, he told Albus Dumbledore that Voldemort was too strong, and he begged to be killed. With his dying breaths he made sure he wouldn't be the reason Lord Voldemort came back to life. But the old man is soft-hearted, and he only pushed for lifelong imprisonment, not the Kiss or the Arch. And Lucious Malfoy used a bag of galleons to ensure that master and servant were reunited in Azkaban. He did not, of course, know that you were innocent." Harry-_Voldemort _smirked.

He found himself pinned against the wall, the front of his robes clenched in Sirius' fists and being stared down. "_What have you done to my godson?_" Sirius snarled.

"Not nearly as much as I could have." Voldemort replied calmly. "He's still here, even. Makes a fuss sometimes, but he's pretty tame now. You won't kill me, not as long as he's alive." And that infuriating superior smirk wouldn't go away, even when Sirius was ready to rip his head off.

"I want to talk to him! I want proof!"

The smirk cleared off his face first, then all other expression. His head drooped like his neck couldn't hold it up anymore.

"S-Sirius?" Harry asked. His voice was different from Voldemort's in subtle ways-it held none of the confident undertone, and it was tired. Very tired. "I-I've been fighting him for so long, but..."

"Harry." Sirius said, and changed his hold to give his _real _godson a bear hug.

Harry began to laugh.

"Harry?" Sirius went to pull away, look at his godson's face.

"You're a fool." Voldemort said as the knife he'd been holding slid between Sirius' ribs.

Sirius tried to breathe and found he couldn't; he stumbled away, staring at Voldemort.

"It's one of the first laws of possession." Voldemort stated. "Nothing of the host remains."

Sirius choked and fell to his knees, one hand coming up to the knife in his chest and the other reaching for Harry's body. "H-Harry." He stuttered, almost pleading.

Voldemort went to laugh again, but he stopped. He stopped and he fell, first to his knees and then sideways. He curled up, fetal, cradling his head in both arms. He screamed.

"_LEAVE! THEM! ALONE!_"


	2. Part Two

Liar, Liar Part 2

* * *

**Wind**

Three years since that night, that awful night when Sirius' world came crashing down around him. Three years since he nearly died and three years to the day when he found-

That something of the host remains.

Harry, finally forcing his way out to save his friends. Harry, screaming for their lives. Harry, seizing control for just long enough to say "I'm sorry" and flee.

Sirius would've died that night if it weren't for Hermione Granger; he still came closer than ever before. And he woke with a new purpose: to exorcise the spirit of the teen aged Voldemort from Harry's body and get his godson back. Because Harry was still alive and as long as there was a sliver of a chance, Sirius wasn't going to let it go. James would've done it for him and he was going to do it.

The only problem was that Harry's Voldemort had dropped off the map and a new one had sprung up last year, attacking the Ministry out of nowhere with a body nothing like Harry's. Another piece of the mad man's soul. It was chilling to think that there could eventually be seven of him running around.

But Voldemort didn't get the prophecy and there was still no word of Riddle. The Order of the Phoenix was on the front lines of every strike, but they couldn't predict everything. People were dying, families were being cut down the middle like the Potters like the Longbottoms like fucking everyone.

It kind of made Sirius wish he were still a convict on the run, blissfully ignorant of the news.

It kind of made Sirius wish he'd never found out about Harry; he was sure that living a lie would be better than living in Hell.

* * *

**Speed**

The years had passed quickly for Tom Riddle. Retraining this new body, and all the reflexes that came with it, took up a big chunk of those three years. The rest were spent traveling all over the world, meeting Voldemort's old contacts and using the blackmail and the charm that had first allowed him to use them.

With how much he got done, he wondered why he'd wasted half a year trying to subtly convert Sirius Black to the Dark. Maybe it was a personal challenge? To see if he could turn one of the Light's strongest supporters. It was a shame that the man was so strong.

Riddle still disliked him for not dying when he was supposed to.

But that half a year of roaming the countryside with the mutt hadn't really been wasted. It had given him time to fully assimilate the soul of the later Lord Voldemort, and when combined with Harry's memories-forcefully seized, of course-gave Riddle a good picture of what had happened since he was sixteen.

And he was _not happy_.

His older self was a fool, in Riddle's opinion. He hadn't fully solved the problem of Horcruxes causing insanity and decided that it didn't matter-he made the fatal mistake of assuming he could handle anything thrown at him because he was _immortal_. Tom was sorely disappointed in himself, and also quite disgusted. This Lord Voldemort didn't have loyal followers; he had sycophantic slaves branded like cattle, most of whom were as touched in the head as the Lord himself.

This was not the man he had envisioned himself becoming.

And then Voldemort came back.

Riddle wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do at first, but the answer came to him fast enough. He was being given the chance to start all over. This war would throw the Wizarding World into chaos, and in that chaos Tom Riddle would be a patch of calm for people to flee to. He would take Dumbledore's path, this time around. He would rule them through their hearts and they would deify him.

His name would resonate through history more than even _Albus Dumbledore_.

* * *

**Freeze**

It wasn't dark down here. It wasn't _anything _down here, which was really the worst thing. At least when Riddle visited, there was something. Something that wasn't just his own mind, and feeling little pieces of it drift away. Sometimes Riddle wanted to gloat, sometimes to talk, sometimes to hear him scream. (Oh damn he'd forgotten his name again. It might come back. Maybe.) And he couldn't help but look forward to those times, because he had _nothing _else.

But there was one thing. One more thing to live for. What was it again? He knew there was one.

Right!

Those few times when Riddle was stressed, or not paying attention, or even just relaxing his guard, Harry (his name!) could slip through the layers separating them (shivering at the desolate cold feeling _this is Voldemort's mind_) and reach the world outside. He could see again, hear and smell and once, memorably, when Riddle had been eating and Harry tasted an unfamiliar fruit and a truly delicious steak.

And then. Then there was another thing.

Control.

He hadn't had control of his body since first waking up after the Chamber. He'd only been able to watch, snapshots through stolen eyes, his godfather being tricked again and again. Being manipulated into killing the rat. But until the Shack, he'd never been able to do anything.

And in the Shack.

The solid feel of the knife, the strength behind the grip, pushing it in deep. Sirius falling. Horror.

_thisisMYbody minemineMINEGETOUT_

Pushing, harder than he ever had before. Everything burning as their wills collided and-

_a bucktoothed smile brown eyes red hair freckles is this compartment taken bloody hell you're harry potter sallow skin wild black fur you have your mother's eyes you look just like your father_

and-

"_LEAVE! THEM! ALONE!_"

And for a short, glorious time, Harry(! He remembered-everything! How could he have ever forgotten?) was back in control.

Harry had suffered at Riddle's hands for a long time for that night, but it was worth it. The pain was nothing when he remembered that he'd been able to save his friends-it was nothing when he remembered the sharp tang of Riddle's terror. The spirit of the younger Voldemort was scared of things he couldn't control-like death. And Harry.

Harry did not die, at first maybe out of the hope that he could do something and then purely out of spite. And Riddle couldn't control Harry's mind, he couldn't force Harry to back down and he could cause as much pain as he wanted but Harry wouldn't break. Not when there were people he loved in danger.

It was a great satisfaction of Harry's that Riddle hadn't dared to even think about his friends, for fear that Harry would find that strange strength again and take over for good.

So Harry waited in a place that wasn't dark or small or real. He lost pieces of his mind, his memories, his self, sometimes, but underneath the rambling surface thoughts there was a deeper, stronger one.

_Protect them_.

* * *

**Burn**

"It's happened again, Albus." Remus Lupin said, sitting down in the armchair before the Headmaster's desk. He didn't like giving his reports in the Headmaster's office; it made him remember all the times he'd been in here with three other boys, chastised and sent on their way. He felt like a child again and like there should be three warm bodies at his back while he made up a ridiculous, obvious lie.

"Where was it this time?" The old man sighed. He was getting too old for this-no, he was already too old.

"A muggleborn's house just outside of London. Thought they could wait it out there, I guess. Two dead, a man and a woman." Remus' voice didn't even waver as he reported the deaths, but he wished it would. It might've sounded masochistic, but he wanted to feel _something_.

He hadn't felt anything in a very long time. Just a bone-deep exhaustion that told him he wasn't as young as he used to be and werewolves had shorter lifespans than even muggles.

"But." Remus said. Albus looked up from cleaning his glasses with thin, aching fingers. "But there were signs of about three others living with them, another family taking refuge behind the wards."

"Captured?"

"No. Escaped. And _his _calling card was there."

Albus looked stuck between troubled and relieved. "Any more leads? A message?"

"No, but I think it's message enough that he hasn't contacted us yet-and if this proves anything, he could if he wanted to. He doesn't want to cooperate with us."

"That's... troubling." Albus looked like what he was feeling was a lot stronger than _troubling_. "We still don't know who he is? Not even a clue?"

Remus shook his head. "Just that he's showed up at _all _of the last seven attacks, and managed to save some of the people there. And considering that two of those were at the same time, our biggest lead is that it's probably a group of people charmed or polyjuiced into the same body type-no one's even gotten a look at his face behind that wolf mask or under that weird white cloak he's always got."

"Hmm." Albus was thinking. Remus knew he had several hunches, one of which was probably right. He wasn't sharing them, however, waving away all questions with 'just an old man's delusions' and 'a few senile theories.'

"He's definitely got a spy in with You-Know-Who." Remus kept talking. "And he's not afraid of facing the man himself-Tonks was in Diagon when it was attacked, she saw Wolf holding off You-Know-Who. Some pretty advanced wand-work, she said."

"Have we been looking for the people he's 'saving?'" Albus asked thoughtfully.

"Yes, since the first attack. No one's showed up so far. They might be held against their will or they might think they're safer with this guy than with us."

"And who's been taken, so far?"

"Mostly muggleborns and their families. Dean Thomas and his parents-he was a prospective for the Order. One pureblood traitor family, the Zabinis. They refused to join You-Know-Who and decided to stay neutral but, well, with You-Know-Who you're either with him or against him. Why?"

"Try not to mention it to the others, but..." Which Remus translated to 'do not admit even under torture.' "I think he's recruiting."

"You're right, that does sound crazy." Remus deadpanned.

"I never said it was-"

"Well, Tonks is waiting for me back at Headquarters." Remus stood quickly, trying to forget what Albus had just said. He had _friends _among those saved by the White Wolf (and he winced at even mentally using the press's cliched name for the man) and he didn't need to think about those people being kept in cells, slowly brainwashed into joining the suicidal Wolf.

"One more thing, Remus." Albus called him back. Remus turned around with a look that said, 'I'm tired, make it quick.' "What was the name of the family attacked today?"

Remus' head bent. He'd been trying to avoid this. Avoid saying it out loud and admitting it was true. "...Granger." He muttered finally, and left before the old man could destroy his life any more.

That night, it took him a long time to get to sleep with thoughts of Harry Potter's two best friends whirling around his head.

* * *

**River**

The last thing Hermione remembered was Death Eaters shattering her carefully-constructed wards (stupid to think that would keep them out stupid stupid) and bursting into the house. She and Luna, defending, her parents and a green light and a rushing sound like waves or wings or waterfalls.

Her parents were dead.

Strangely, she didn't feel anything. This was probably the comforting first stage of shock. Later she'd break down in tears and wish for her parents back. Later she'd allow herself some weakness.

But right now, she had to find out why she was not dead, and why she was staring at an off-white ceiling.

"Hermione Granger." A voice greeted her from somewhere to her left. "You're finally awake." It sounded like it came from smiling lips, but there was no true warmth. Just a careful toneless neutrality.

She rolled over. "...So you're the White Wolf."

Harry Potter's body shrugged, his hands raised palms up. "Guilty as charged."

She rolled onto her back again. She didn't want to see her friend's face and hear that voice coming out of it. It was too different. "Why?" She asked.

"I am the spirit of a younger Lord Voldemort." Tom Riddle said. "And when I see what I came to be... it makes me sick. I'm insane, I've taken things too far, and I don't want to live forever if it's going to be with a mind too fractured to function. Not even reuniting all the little pieces of my soul would heal me now.

"But _I'm_ still sane. I've taken it upon myself to fix this. I brought him into this world, and I'm going to take him out."

"And then?" Hermione said. "I'm not believing that you'd do this out of the goodness of your cold, black heart."

"Well... I'm not going to just fade away. Voldemort won't even really die-not as long as I'm tying him to this world. I'll find a way to contain his spirit. When this body is at the end of its natural lifespan, I'll die with it and someone will kill the true Lord Voldemort."

"Are you trying to say you're not him?"

"In a way, I suppose I am. But more than that, I am just a memory, and he is the mind."

"You telling me all of this makes me think I'm not going to be living for very much longer." Hermione stated calmly. This reminded her of the villain gloating before the hero's death-except Hermione was pretty sure she wasn't going to be rescued, or escape.

"I'll admit, it's going to be difficult to push Potter down every time I'm within sight of you. He doesn't even know you're here, and if I have my way he won't ever. But I'm telling you this now so you can trust me now, and we can get all the useless posturing and hiding out of the way."

"Why? What do you want?"

"You're a strong, brilliant witch, Hermione Granger." This time, the smile might've actually been real. "I'm going to need someone like you on my side, when I take over the Wizarding World."

Hermione laughed and found she couldn't stop. Four minutes later, breathless and still spurting fits of giggles at times, she looked up to find that Tom Riddle was gone.

* * *

**Nails**

"Sirius." Remus tried to catch the man's attention. It was difficult; Sirius had practice at ignoring the world around him. "Sirius look at me. I have something to tell you and I think you'll want to hear it."

Sirius' head turned on a stiff neck. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he hadn't shaved in days. His skin was too pale, his hair too brittle and dark.

"You've got to eat, Padfoot." Remus said gently.

"If that's the oh-so-important thing you came to tell me, you can shove it and leave me alone." Sirius rasped. He went to go back to his searching through the book in front of him.

"No-Siri, Padfoot, listen to me. It's about Harry."

That brought the man's head up like it'd been jerked on a leash. There was a strange light to his eyes and Remus was forcefully reminded that twelve years in Azkaban had not served Sirius' mind well. "What? What is it?"

"It's... well, it's sort of about the White Wolf, too." Remus took a deep breath. "He was seen fleeing the latest attack, after rescuing an entire family."

"So?" Sirius demanded.

"He changed into a wolf..."

* * *

**Blind**

"This is the practice room." Blaise said, waving an arm at an open door. "And right next door's the school, but it's really just a library where people share what they know, because we don't have teachers. But they're both open to you at any time."

Hermione looked more interested in the library than the practice room. She opened the door and looked inside; it had nothing on the Hogwart's library, but for being a personal collection it was huge. The room itself was the size of the Gryffindor common room, all the walls lined with book shelves and all the bookshelves filled out. In one corner the shelves were starting to form rows; those ones were half empty, waiting for new arrivals.

"Wolf wants us to know how to protect ourselves. He says anyone who can land one hit on him in a duel is allowed to go out with him to fight." Blaise explained.

"So he's keeping you all here?" Hermione asked, looking at the collection of tables in the center of the room. There were six people seated there, but she didn't recognize any of them. "Forcefully?"

Blaise actually laughed at the question. "No, not at all. We're allowed to leave any time we want. So far, no one's wanted to. It's a safety in numbers thing, and Wolf's wards are very strong, so that helps. We're a lot safer here than out there, everyone knows it."

"Doesn't it seem too... convenient to you?" Hermione asked carefully. Wolf had saved Blaise and his parents (_her parent hadn't been saved_ she forced the grief down _be strong now cry later_) from the Death Eaters nearly a month ago. He idolized the man, even though he'd never seen what was behind the wolf mask.

Blaise looked at her. "I _was _Slytherin, you know. I know just as well as you do that no one is like this. This... kind. He wants something. I don't know what, but he wants something, and right now I'm inclined to give it to him."

"What do you think it it? You must have some ideas, some theories." Hermione pressed.

"I do have one. Wolf strongly encourages everyone to learn to defend themselves."

"He's building an army." She breathed.

Blaise nodded. "Completely loyal to him, no less. It would be scary... it _should _be. But it's not. Somehow. Doesn't make sense, but not much around here does."

"I hate him." Hermione blurted. "The White Wolf. I can't... I can't stand to be around him. I hate him."

"Yeah, well, he's not easy to like. I've never seen his face, but you get the feeling that he's talking down to you, lowering himself to interact with us mere mortals. Still, it's even harder to hate him."

"I want to leave. I have friends who might think I'm dead. My par-(_are dead too _stop_ don't think about that_)-friends are probably worried."

Blaise shrugged. "Like I said, leave any time. The door's down this hall, take a right and then it's the third left. A warning: once you leave, you can never come back."

Hermione had the door halfway open before she realized she was never going to step through it.

* * *

**Stars**

"Don't do this, Padfoot." Remus was practically begging now. "Please. You can't just-you have a life here!"

"Not much of one." Sirius muttered.

"Stay!" Remus caught the other man's shoulder as he turned back to his packing. "Sirius, please don't. I don't... I can't lose another friend."

"Then come with me!" Sirius snapped. "You're his godfather too."

"I can't, Siri. I have Tonks. The Order. All the people and all the reasons you shouldn't be leaving on some wild-goose-chase. We don't even know for sure! It doesn't make sense."

Sirius stopped, finally, with his back to his friend. "Moony." He said, staring down at the floor. "I never understood it, before. We were the Marauders. I thought we'd always be as close as that last year in school. I thought it would never change and I never wanted it to.

"But James loved Lily more than he loved us. He left. We didn't know it then but the second she said 'yes' we started to fall apart. I thought that when he finally got her, she'd join us. We'd just have one more Marauder. Except he left us. He chose her over us. I kind of hate her for that."

"Sirius." Remus said weakly. Sirius didn't stop talking.

"The Marauders fell apart." He said, even though it hurt them both. "It was James who moved away but it was you who couldn't be trusted. I was watched because of my blood. Peter fell into trouble and we weren't there to pull him out because _we had our own problems and nobody there to help!_" He was shouting now.

"And I can't help but think it could've all gone differently if we'd just held on. Things wouldn't have fallen apart and landed like they did. So now I'm going to hold and I'm going to _find _Harry and bring him _back_, no matter what I have to do. Are you coming with me?"

"N-no. Padfoot, I can't. You shouldn't-"

"Please don't ever call me that again. Goodbye, Remus."

"Sirius!"

* * *

**Wings**

Riddle hadn't seen his newest recruit since she first woke up in the 'hospital wing.' During their short discussion, it had been nearly impossible to suppress Harry Potter; the boy was interested in what Tom was trying to keep from him.

Tom Riddle was worried.

Of all the people he'd ever possessed, Harry was no different. Riddle became the dominant personality with little resistance. He stayed in control almost without trying; he was stronger and he had more will. He had only to concentrate to shove Harry down into a corner of their shared brain that he would not escape for a while.

Except that Harry _was _different.

After three years, he had not faded. Not even the tiniest bit. His mind burned like a banked fire, but it never flickered out.

Sometimes, Tom thought it was growing stronger.

Harry was moving around easier. He escaped almost instantly now; it took a constant pressure to push him to where he couldn't sense the outside world. And sometimes, when Tom was deep in thought and not paying attention, he would become aware that his arm was moving on its own.

He wasn't sleeping anymore. Not after the first time he'd woken up in the middle of his room with no recollection of moving there.

Under the mask, there were dark half-moons under his eyes. His hands shook. He was falling apart.

He could afford to rest a moment. Voldemort had no attacks planned. He was safe in this house, safe in this room. He could just rest his head on his arms and he'd be up in a few minutes...

* * *

**Dragon**

Harry opened his eyes.


	3. Part Three

Liar, Liar Part Three

* * *

**Fight**

Ronald Weasley was a dead man.

Not literally, not yet. But there were Death Eaters attacking his house and only he and Neville Longbottom were there. His mother, his family, they were all at Headquarters. Ron and Neville had volunteered to pick up the rest of the stuff they needed to move into Grimmauld Place.

"They're coming from the north." Neville said. His voice didn't shake; they'd both been on the front lines before.

"And the south and the west and the east. We're surrounded. I'm assuming they thought there'd be more of us here; we've done nothing to make them think we need this many Death Eaters to be taken out." Ron replied as he transfigured furniture into a circular stone shield around them. "Damn, I wish I could use Dumbledore and McGonagall's animate transfigurations."

"Why can't you?"

"I'm good at transfiguration, but not that good. Mine are lucky if they get to move a limb, let alone the 'obeying orders' part."

"Now's a really good time to learn." Neville suggested.

Ron glared. "I don't see you doing anything so advanced."

He shrugged. "I thought we agreed: I would shield us, you attack."

"What about the Army, have you called them yet?"

"Yeah, they'll be here. I don't know how soon. Do you think we trained them-"

"Hermione was a good teacher. They know enough to stay out of it if they want to, so obviously they don't want to." Ron said firmly, ending the discussion, Neville's doubts, and his own.

"Alright. I'll take the east and the south. We've got to hold the apparition point if we want the Army to be at all useful when they come."

"And I've got the north and the west."

"Yeah."

The wards fell and the door exploded inwards.

* * *

**Flight**

Harry was better than Riddle thought. He knew the spirit had his friend. But it had been years - what if she hated him? What if she couldn't stand the sight of his body knowing what was in there? He still protected her. He would still fight Riddle to save her.

But his resident spirit seemed to have no ill will towards her. Harry could only feel a vague respect for her skills, and none of the overwhelming hatred for all things muggle and muggleborn.

It made Harry wonder if somehow he and Riddle were becoming less separate. He certainly had never thought about world domination before.

And he'd noticed a disturbing lack of his own ethics these days - like when Voldemort had been somewhere and Harry surfaced just in time for his captor to be looking disgustedly at a mentally disabled man being helped throughout every day tasks. Voldemort had wondered why they kept half-people like that alive and Harry should've disagreed but... he didn't. Some aspects of humanity, like this one, had stopped making sense to him. Kindness for no reason just didn't compute within his mind.

So when Harry took control, he didn't head for Hermione. After the Shack, she would never believe it was him. Not when Riddle had pretended so well. Harry didn't expect anyone anywhere to ever believe him when he said 'I'm Harry' because there was no way to prove it and he'd tell them himself, _don't believe_. Riddle was too clever, too devious. Harry's face could not be trusted.

And that left Harry with only a few things to do.

* * *

**Clouds**

Sirius didn't stop searching. He got people drunk enough to talk. He flirted with anyone who didn't respond to drink. He threatened the rest and the murderous, mad glint in his eyes made most of them give up their secrets.

The White Wolf's headquarters were nowhere to be found, but Sirius knew he was on the right trail. This man had heard from his best friend's sister's mother's gossip buddy that a certain mansion up on a hill had bee ordering obscene amounts of food. That woman's daughter worked in the store; yeah, she confirmed, her daughter had mentioned something about business booming suddenly.

The mansion, it turned out, was a decoy. The food got ferried away by magic the moment the delivery truck was out of sight. Sirius had no way to track down the other end of the delivery point. He turned around, ready to follow another lead.

And ran into a man in a wolf's mask.

He stumbled back, too surprised to react. The White Wolf just stood there, regarding him.

"Are you really Voldemort?" Sirius blurted. _Oh, yeah, way to go Padfoot_.

If anything, the Wolf was amused. "I actually go by Wolf, now, but Voldemort was once my name. I changed it. Got too popular, you see."

Was the bastard actually laughing at him? Sirius wondered.

"Did you want something, Sirius Black?" Wolf asked, half-impatient. The other half... well, Sirius didn't know. But he wasn't dead, so that half probably didn't want to kill him.

"Yes." Sirius said. "My godson back." It sounded brave. His voice barely held steady as he said it.

There was something in Wolf's response when he answered. A note to it that rang true. And the uncertainty. "I... at this point, I honestly don't think he - I could leave. It's been too long. H - I've been in this body so much that I couldn't if I tried. Which I won't."

Something was wrong. Voldemort, not even his teenaged incarnation, did not stutter through a simple idea, but Sirius ignored this.

"Then tell me what you're planning." Sirius said. _Why are you saving people? Where are you taking them?_

"Isn't it obvious?" Wolf spread his arms wide like the prophet presenting the word of a new god. "I'm going to rule this world."

* * *

**Silver**

Hermione spent her first few days in Wolf's house browsing the library. After the first few hours she had it generally mapped out, and at the end of the first day she had moved on from speculative skimming to active researching. Wolf's library contained battle spells that weren't available in the Hogwarts library, ones she could teach to Wolf's people and then to Dumbledore's Army.

Two weeks later, she was still reading and she had done little else.

People came and went from the library. Blaise brought her food when he felt like it and she ate when she remembered to. But mostly she kept her mind lost in the technical terms of Crowley's Human Bonfire Spells and the nuances of offensive transfiguration. Anything to keep from thinking about her parents.

It was suppression, and very unhealthy, Hermione knew well. She should face her grief and get over it. But there was knowledge calling her name and so she pushed them out of her mind, told herself she was over it.

Maybe she was, but probably not.

Hermione saw Luna Lovegood briefly, a few times. The slightly insane girl didn't spend much time in the library, preferring to sit on the roof outside her room's window and stare at the world. She didn't want to talk to Luna, who was a piece of the past she was trying to forget. When she saw Luna she also saw her parent's pale faces, heard them screaming for her to run and leave them.

Luna didn't seem at all affected by the death around her. Hermione kind of resented her for that.

"How long are you going to keep hiding in here?" Blaise asked one day, as he set down the tray that held her lunch – or, judging from the toast and eggs, breakfast. Had it really been night time? The library didn't have any windows.

"As long as I want to." Hermione replied.

"Will you at least start teaching us what you're learning?" Blaise said. "I know you and that Weasley kid are the ones who started Dumbledore's Army. You can do it."

"Maybe," Hermione said. She liked teaching. She loved it when people jumped to obey her orders like they did in the Army. It was the power, yes, but also the respect. Intoxicating, almost. And near the end, there, the Army had actually been an army, organized with teams and commanders, ready to fight. They were just children, but children have the most hope.

"When this war is over," Hermione's head jerked up. No one talked about the war ending. "What do you think is going to happen to us?"

"If we survive." Hermione corrected flatly. She didn't exactly plan on surviving. "I don't know. I don't care."

"I'm going to be Minister of Magic." Blaise said. He got that half-mad look that Wolf's people did when they thought about him. "I'll change things and make sure this war never happens again."

Later, Hermione would look in the mirror and think that she had that same, not-quite-sane light about her.

* * *

**Gold**

Harry just had time to apparate away from Sirius before Riddle forced his way back into consciousness. Mere minutes after, Harry knew, Riddle would be in control again. The former dark lord was powerful when he wasn't running his mind into the ground with exhaustion.

He fell to his knees in Wolf's room

(I am Harry he is Riddle we are Wolf)

and slumped forward, holding his head. Their body would go limp briefly, as it changed hands, and if left standing it would fall over. Painful and sometimes dangerous.

Riddle's anger burned in their minds, searing Harry's mind away from the controls. He shoved to the forefront, smothering Harry's mind with his own, and then jerked back. Maybe it had finally occurred to Riddle that the near-constant contact was merging them together. But it allowed Harry time to purposely lose the memory of what he'd done while in control. It would come back later - probably.

"You will pay for this." Riddle spat.

"You can do nothing to me that you have not already done." Harry hissed right back.

"I will kill your friends. The red head, Granger, maybe even that fat Gryffindor boy."

"No! I can stop you! I _will _stop you!"

Harry pushed back. It wasn't the first time, but it had been a while. Riddle had always been too strong for him.

The body keeled over onto its side. Riddle lost control of half the senses and the left arm.

"Stop that!" He shouted.

Harry pushed again and got the left leg.

"Stop! Stop it!"

They were fighting, a battle of will that seemed stalemated. The body twitched out of both their control, seizing up and flopping around the floor. Riddle, in control of the mouth still, tasted bile. Harry smelt it.

Harry pulled back first, afraid of what was happening to his body. It seemed to be trying to tear itself apart, jittering in place like that. Riddle shoved him down into a dark corner and waited the seizure out with worried patience.

"You almost killed yourself." Riddle said.

"If it would take you with me, in a heartbeat." Harry swore.

"It wouldn't. I'm going to live forever."

* * *

**Clockwork**

It wasn't like Hermione had deliberately searched this out. She hadn't. The book was misplaced, which was perhaps the reason it hadn't been removed from the library entirely. And it wasn't very thick or eye-catching. She was browsing and the ragged edge of her nail caught in the top of the frayed binding. Tugging brought the book spilling onto the floor.

One might say it was fate, or karma.

It was entitled Possession and Exorcism as told by the Mad God. A title that, as wizarding titles went, wasn't all that unusual. The illustration, a human standing in a glowing runic array, head thrown back and thick black animated smoke spilling from his mouth, was original but not particularly noteworthy. And the subject matter - well, that was what made her start reading.

Hermione devoured all seventy-three pages of it in one sitting, not really an accomplishment unless you counted the amount of terms she had to look up in The Wizard's Dictionary (although the built-in search function made it much better than muggle dictionaries). When she was finished, the information whirled around her brain and finally settled down into the skeleton of a plan. After reading it through another three times, the skeleton had muscles and a facial structure.

She then spent another ten minutes frantically wondering whether this book had been planted by Wolf, a complete misinformation to ferret out traitors. Eventually, she decided it was worth the risk.

* * *

**Kings**

Miraculously, Ron and Neville had survived. Neville was down a few fingers and half the bones in Ron's body were shattered, but they were alive. The Army had come to their rescue just as the Death Eaters were about to punch through the circular line of defense, neither of them able to keep up. Ron's strategic defenses helped and when the bone-breaker hit him he sat back to take full command. That was probably one of the only reasons they won.

The Death Eaters retreated, not ready to make this an actual battle in the war. It was meant to be a guerrilla attack, where they were too surprised to fight back. Well, the Light had a few tricks too. And the Army, unlike the Order, was not holding back.

What few people understood was that the Order and the Army were two different things. The Order, for one, refused to accept anyone below age, and they were almost completely non-violent. They were more suited to gathering intelligence. The Army, on the other hand, was made up mostly of Hogwart's age students and anyone else who could prove they had the training. Ron and Hermione had started it in their fifth year and things had snowballed from there.

Ron was amazingly proud of his Army.

His mother didn't understand. Their relationship had been strained since she ordered him not to take on any more 'missions' and to disband his 'ridiculous group of children right this instant before he got them and himself killed.' He had flatly refused and walked away from her resulting explosion. Commanding had given him a new purpose, a new outlook, a new confidence in himself. He had transcended the uncertain awkwardness of teenagerdom ahead of his time and it felt good.

As a result, the Army was as efficient and useful as the Auror Corps. They were on scene at every battle in minutes, wands blazing with offensive spells and shields. The Army was his pride and joy.

Harry would've been proud of him, Ron thought.

Ron spent too much time thinking about Harry, and Riddle. Wondering how things could've gone differently if only he had been on the other side of that rock slide. He could've saved Harry. He could've stopped this whole, pointless war and saved all the lives that had been lost and would be lost.

Okay, so maybe Ron placed himself in a high and important position. It was hard not to when you could say you commanded one of the most powerful forces in Britain and had once been Harry Potter's best friend. (That last one mattered a lot more than it probably should have.)

After the skirmish at his house, Ron and Neville returned to the Order to be patched up - as well as informants, the Order had the best medical care outside of Mungo's, and inside of Mungo's there were too many potential Death Eaters.

Molly Weasley made small noises over their wounds, little 'oh's and whimpers. But she didn't scold him any more, which kept Ron from demanding Pomfrey instead. Sometimes the adult's take on the war wasn't as serious as he knew it should be, but there were reasons for that. They had lived their lives already, were just waiting for death to realize it and come along to collect them. It was a cold thing to think but Ron had learned how to be cold.

And then he found out about Hermione's disappearance.

* * *

**Blood**

Draco tapped on the door to his father's study hesitantly, as nervous as any teenager would be in his situation. Even if he was a Death Eater, he would always be a child to his father.

Sometimes he resented this, but more often he was glad for it.

"Father?" He asked, mouth close to the carved wood. He traced the detailed swirls with his eyes as he waited for the reply.

The door opened not a minute later, after a few thumps that let Draco know his father had hidden away any evidence of what he was doing before. Lucius Malfoy stood in the opening, watching his son with the same coldness he gave everybody. It was the look Draco worked hard to change from mild irritation to pride.

"I want to talk to you about… being a Death Eater."

He'd already been inducted. There was nothing more to talk about after that. Lucius Malfoy would know something was wrong.

His father stepped aside, a wordless invitation to enter. The inside of the study was a lesson in home decor, forest green, touches of silver, and dark, almost red wood. Everything from the bookshelves to the books themselves were both practical and aesthetic, the best that money could buy. Having only been in there four times before, Draco took the chance to look around.

It said nothing more about his father than what Draco already knew.

"I'm not sure anymore." Draco said. Lucius tensed. The son tried to ignore it; it had been hard enough convincing himself to tell his father, who had never given a single sign that he wanted to know about Draco's life, or indeed even cared.

"I'm not sure I want to be a Death Eater any more."

"May I ask what brought this on?" Lucius asked, voice light.

"Well, you've always taught me to do what's best for myself. Pick the winning side. And for a while that was the Dark Lord's. It still might be. But I don't think so.

"The White Wolf is besting the Dark Lord at every turn. He's killed Death Eaters and dueled the Dark Lord almost to a standstill. I've heard rumors, too, that now's he started appearing with two or three in tow, learning. Rumors that also say he's turning the people he rescues, the ones who don't come back, into his own army."

"And you want to be part of this army." Lucius said it like he didn't believe what he was saying.

"I want to pick the winning side."

* * *

**Mud**

"Blaise," Hermione said from behind him. Blaise turned around to look at her, mildly surprised that she had emerged from the library.

She took a breath and held it.

"There's something you need to know about Wolf."

* * *

**Machine**

"We have to find her!" Ron shouted. The Order looked on, adults secure in their superiority over emotional teenagers. This was only justification for them that children should not be fighting the war.

"You will not raise your voice to Professor Dumbledore, Ronald Weasley!" Molly exclaimed, one finger extended.

"I'll yell at him as much as I want if it'll make him see sense!" Ron said. "Not only does Hermione have intricate knowledge on every Army and Order member and how we work, she's my friend and I will not leave her to _rot_!"

"He does make a good point on the giving up information bit." Bill Weasley pointed out.

Ron suddenly remembered Hermione's Unbreakable Vow not to reveal any information, but decided not to share that. Anything to get them out there searching for her.

"We've been looking since the first time Wolf stopped a raid." Moody said. "And nothing's ever turned up. We're still looking."

"Sirius Black, alone and without any help, has gotten father than you fools!" Ron said. "Sometimes I wonder what you all do all day, aside from cowering in this house like the scared old men and women you are."

As he pivoted on one heel and stormed out, the Order's meeting room was completely, shamefully silent.

* * *

**Wolves**

The raid on Diagon Alley came as a complete surprise. The Death Eaters swooped in at high noon and started shooting curses off left and right as one of their number stood in the middle of it all, preaching about the evils of muggles and the safety to be found within Voldemort's ranks. The Army took at least eight minutes to fully mobilize and with magic a lot can happen in eight minutes.

The Wolves took a lot less time.

The White Wolf, a short figure in a white cloak and white wolf mask, appeared first. He engaged the nearest Death Eater and others converged, ready for the kill, but the Wolf was not alone-

Twelve others apparated in, straight through the wards the Wolf had taken mere moments to tear down, their cloaks and masks red as blood. The Hunt had joined the Wolf.

The Death Eaters fell quickly, and did not get up. From a party of almost twenty-five, only six got out and two Inner Circles members were left behind. The Hunt went around the decimated Alley, gathering bodies into straight lines, portkeying prisoners away, offering help and shelter. A group of four split off and starting repairing a few shops, sweeping up glass and sharp, dangerous debris out of the way.

By the time the Army apparated in in full rank, there was very little left to do. They were ten minutes late to the party and just in time to help clean up. The Wolf and his Hunt had already left, ten more recruits and five prisoners in their midst.

* * *

**Earth**

"We can't be everywhere, Ron," Neville said it soothingly, one hand on Ron's shoulder. "We got there as soon as we could - "

"Not soon enough. We need to practice more, get faster, get stronger. What about the Order, their spies knew nothing?"

"They would've warned us if they could, but there are other, larger attacks. We need to save our spies for those, keep them from being found out before it's important -

"_This _is important! Hermione's was a small raid but look how much it's set us back! We're falling behind, we don't have the numbers, or the training, or the - the _anything_!"

"You're making this too personal. War can't be personal."

Ron looked up at Neville, who saw the desperation in his eyes, the fear that they would lose and Voldemort would win - "War is nothing if not personal, Nev." Ron said. "Didn't you always know that?"

* * *

**Hell**

Under a powerful polyjuice and among the recruits from Diagon Alley, Sirius Black was portkeyed into the heart of Wolf's den.

Not three feet away, Draco Malfoy's unconscious, bound body was sent along with the rest of the prisoners.


	4. Part Four

Liar, Liar Part Four

* * *

**Heaven**

"Do you know who Wolf is?"

"No, of course not. He never shows his face to anyone." Not even his most devoted.

"Well... I have an idea. About it."

Hesitation. Is this a breach of Wolf's trust in him? "What's your idea?"

"It's actually more than an idea. I know it for a fact because... because he showed me his face."

"You? What - why - why you? Why're you so - "

"It's because I knew him from before he was Wolf. I knew him when we were both just kids. He was one of my best friends in Hogwarts."

"But you only had... Oh god. No. Oh my god. It's not - ? Bloody hell, Granger, is Wolf... Is Wolf Harry Potter? But Potter's dead. He died in the... in the Chamber... he didn't die, did he?"

"That's the official story. What actually happened is... complicated. No one was actually there for it - we only saw the aftermath. But what happened after is enough to figure out what happened before."

"So what is it? Did Potter run away or something? Did he get training or something? What?"

"Oh Blaise, you have no idea how much I wish that were true. But when Harry was rescued from the Chamber... Well, first he was unconscious. When he woke up it was... it was horrible. He was in so much pain. He only had minutes, but he made them count.

"We were all gathered around his bedside, waiting for him to wake up. I remember there was a huge pile of chocolates and candy next to him. I remember Ginny Weasley was in the next bed over. I remember... Ron's parents were crying. With the relief. They thought Harry was the best thing in the world just then.

"And then Harry opened his eyes. He was pale and breathing very shallow. He said something in a whisper and then he just kind of whimpered. Then he said, in a louder voice, and I'll never forget it. He said: "The diary was possessed by the spirit of Tom Marvolo Riddle. I killed the diary but he was strong enough to survive without it."

"He made another noise again. I can't even imagine the kind of pain he was in. It kind of makes me sick to think about it. But Harry was always stronger than any of us. He said: "Riddle is trying to possess me.

""And he's winning." Harry started coughing. Dumbledore told us, in this flat, scared voice, that Tom Riddle changed his name to Lord Voldemort and masterminded half a genocide. Harry inhaled and he spoke again, to Dumbledore. He said: "I don't want my body to be used by a monster." He said we should kill him. He begged us to kill him.

"Dumbledore... it was the first and only time I've ever seen him cry. But just as Harry was slipping away he promised. To kill Harry. To stop the second coming of Lord Voldemort. Then Harry blinked and he was different. He looked older. Before Riddle could say a word, Dumbledore stunned him.

"Dumbledore couldn't kill him, though. He arranged for Harry to be sent to Azkaban, quietly, and told everyone that he'd died in the Chamber of Secrets, rescuing Ginny Weasley from the monster.

"But we've never forgotten, me and Ron. We never forgot what Harry tried to do for us - was willing to do for all of us. And I think he's finally broken Riddle's control, but he's afraid to show himself to everyone because, how could you ever be sure? But Voldemort would never do something like this for people. He wouldn't save people.

"I know that's Harry in there.

"And I've found a way to make sure of it, once and for all."

* * *

**Iron**

Draco Malfoy woke up in a cell.

Next to him, a figure in a gray cloak and wolf mask stood in wait.

_Not the White Wolf._

His wand was, of course, gone, but more than that he seemed to have changed clothes into a black cloak and black muggle clothes underneath. The last thing he remembered was seeing the Wolf's new Hunt apparating into Diagon.

"Am I allowed to see the White Wolf?" Draco asked. "I... have information. I want to join him."

The figure waited so long to respond that Draco thought it might not say anything at all. At length, it said, "I shall ask." It's voice was distinctly feminine.

The wolf-masked woman left, and as she drew away Draco found his eyelids growing heavier and his limbs unresponsive. In moments, he was asleep.

* * *

**Red**

With Blaise firmly on her side (albeit through half-truths, deceit, and straight-up bullshit lies) Hermione needed only two more. Her problem was that she really only knew Luna enough to ask her, and the girl was, quite frankly, insane.

Then she heard about the Diagon Alley raid.

Then she saw an unfamiliar man morph back into Sirius Black in the middle of the infirmary.

Hermione looked around, instantly forgetting what she was there for (sleeping potions to get rid of the bags under her eyes and the dreams filled with green light and her parent's screams). No one else had seemed to see the quietly panicked Sirius's polyjuice wear off.

She went to him at a sedate, controlled pace, knotted one hand firmly in his cloak, and pulled him along with her.

"What - " Sirius started to say, and stopped when he saw her face. "Hermione?" He asked, barely recognizing the girl he'd seen only a few times since that world-changing night. She had saved his life once already on that night and now seemed to be doing it again.

"Come on." Hermione said, pulling him along faster down more winding hallways.

"I've got a lot to tell you if we're going to make this work."

* * *

**Wire**

Dumbledore swirled the last drops of tea in his cup, watching the dregs of tea leaves form into the shapes of his future. The leaves gave him the same answer they always did: We are only leaves, nothing else. Not to your eyes.

The cup shattered in his hand.

He sighed an old man's heavy, world-weary sigh, removing his trademark half-moon spectacles and rubbing the bridge of his nose. His bones ached. Things hurt all the time now, though it was migrant pain. He was nearing the end of his days.

He might not see this war to its end, as he had the last two.

His Order didn't seem to realize how far their leader had fallen, and he was glad for that. It would be better to die a martyr in battle than to be found in the deepest sleep of all one morning. And his Army...

Well, they weren't really his Army, now were they?

They were merely children in the end - powerful, well-trained, disciplined children in a workable hierarchy. It was astounding what young people could do when their minds were set. Astounding, amazing, and very, very sad. They were his in name only - Ronald Weasley and, before she had vanished, Hermione Granger led the Army.

Dumbledore was very nearly ill when he thought too deeply of how the children had become the Light's first line of defense, while the Order, unchanging, worked in the shadows.

And now the Wolf.

The White Wolf was an addition that screwed up the entire equation, and no one was quite sure which way he skewed it - towards the Light, or the Dark?

One of Voldemort's most infamous sayings made all too much sense to Dumbledore:

There is, at the end of all things, only power.

* * *

**Ages**

In the Army's practice room - which was really just a hijacked classroom - Ron fired curse after curse at auto-repairing dummies. Even at their highest recover rate, none of the six ever made it back to a full, unbroken state before it was hit again.

Ron imagined Death Eater masks over each one. When he got tired of that, he imagined the Wolf's mask.

Finally, his wand burning in his hand with all of the magic he'd expelled, Ron stopped. The only sound in the empty room was his harsh breathing and the muffled clunks as the dummies reassembled themselves.

With a grunt, Ron sent one last spell at all six, slashing his wand horizontally. From the tip an arc of red expanded and sliced them cleanly in half. Ron left, still panting.

He might have gone on were it not for the tears blurring his vision.

* * *

**Hail**

Draco found himself coming back to wakefulness as if he had never left it. Belated, his very last thought slipped back to him.

Proximity sleeping spell? Tied to all of Wolf's Hunt or just this one...

His guard was back, with the distinctive white cloak and mask of the White Wolf. Wolf's mask was different from the Hunts', Draco saw now that he had the chance to compare them. The wolf on the leader's mask was more vicious, more sharp-edged. Its mouth gaped to show rows of jagged teeth and its eyes were narrowed to mere slits.

"What is it?" Wolf asked. He sounded as if he didn't have a lot of time and was wasting what little he did talking to Draco.

"I do not want to serve the Dark Lord." Draco said quickly. "I haven't for a while now. I want to join you."

"If I remember correctly," Wolf said. "Your father is one of Voldemort's most avid supporters."

"That is his mistake, not mine."

Wolf smirked a little, as if amused. "Sins of the father, and all that? Yes, well. I'm still not quite convinced you won't turn spy on me the moment you get captured by the other side. Either of them."

"I'll do anything. Take an Unbreakable Vow."

Wolf sounded skeptical when he next spoke. "You offer it too quickly. How am I to know you don't have another plan? A way of circumventing the Vow?"

"I don't know!" Draco exclaimed. Damn, but Wolf was paranoid.

"Luckily, I do. You tell me everything you know about Voldemort, his operation, and his plans, and in return you will have my protection, the freedom to move about this place, and a free stay. You will not join my Hunt and you will have a twenty-four hour guard. You're already linked to this one here; no use redoing it. Do you agree?"

He addressed both the guard and Draco.

"Yes." Draco said.

Eventually, the guard shrugged.

"Excellent. Miss Lovegood, it would be difficult to keep your face hidden for however long this is necessary. If you would?"

Luna Lovegood removed her wolf mask and Draco got a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach.

* * *

**Tracks**

Riddle sat cross-legged in his bed, leaning easily against the wall. Every muscle was relaxed. The door was locked and Harry Potter in far too much pain to take control of the body.

With a great exhalation, he sent his mind along the link between himself and the older Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort was excellent at Legilimency and Occlumency, but the latter fell to the side all too often, neglected for what the Lord thought to be the more useful skill. His shields flickered in and out of existence almost constantly. His mind, though thrown into a constant state of chaos and madness, was easy for Riddle to navigate for the simple reason that it was a mirror of his own.

Plans flickered through Tom Riddle's head, half-formed delusions of grandeur. Possible attacks, likely raids, visions of what the world would be like when Voldemort ruled it.

And then...

_Ah, this will do nicely._

* * *

**Rain**

Dumbledore looked up from his most recent Order report just in time to see his phoenix burst into flames and vanish. He only frowned and went back to work.

Moments later, Fawkes returned with a letter in his talons.

The old man stared just long enough for the phoenix to chirp at him about keeping in waiting, and then took the thick parchment letter. With an unnerving sense of foreboding, he opened it.

_**Four days from now, 9:00pm. Apparition coordinates 8725, 1356, 2359.**_

_**Bring the Army.**_

* * *

**Candlelight**

"We see Wolf very rarely." Hermione said, dragging Sirius along. "But you're half-famous and your presence will be noted and reported to him. We'll need to get you a disguise - one more permanent than a simple polyjuice job."

"I know some charms. They won't fool someone like Wolf, but anyone else... yeah." Sirius volunteered.

"Okay, good. Here we are. This is my room."

Dust covered every surface - she'd been in here only twice, once on her first day and the morning after that to move most of her things to the library. Even the bed, still rumpled from one night of sleep, had a faint coating of it. There was a mirror on the inside of the door.

Sirius stood in front of it and began casting the charms.

"So what's your plan?" He asked as he worked. "Assuming you have one, of course."

"Of course I do. I'm going to use a Druidic ritual to extract Tom Riddle from Harry's body."

"And how is that going to happen?"

"Well... that's actually about as far as I've gotten."

Sirius finished up by changing his gray eyes to a muddy brown. His dark hair was now Malfoy-blond and cut very short; there were two piercings in each of his ears and his face had a rakish, delinquent look about it.

"Then it's a good thing you've got me. In Hogwarts, I was the one to plan most of our pranks and I always got the job done."

"I have such confidence. Didn't you guys usually get caught?"

* * *

**Ire**

Lucius Malfoy stepped hesitantly into his Lord's audience chamber, dearly wishing he hadn't been called today. His son was missing, his wife was severely pissed off and threatening to leave him, and he really _did not_ need to be crucio'd on top of it.

"Ah, Lucius." The Dark Lord said when he saw the aristocrat. "I have a job for you to do."

Lucius wiped his face and mind of all emotions. "Yes, my lord?"

"I'll be hosting... a ball, of sorts, for my loyal and brave supporters." He paused, allowing time for this to sink in. Uncertain, Lucius nodded and murmured a quiet 'yes, m'lord' in case that was what Voldemort was waiting for. "To celebrate our recent victories."

What victories was he hallucinating about? The Wolf and the Army had foiled most of their recent raids.

"I may even give a speech. This event will, of course, need a security team. I want you to hand-pick our best warders and wizards to make sure our festivities are not... interrupted. You have four days."

"Yes, my lord." Lucius said, bowing. He started for a swift exit, only to be called back again by Voldemort's soft voice.

"And Lucius? If anything should happen, anything at all... it's on your head."

Lucius Malfoy had just become the Dark Lord's fall guy.

* * *

**Hollow**

Draco Malfoy wasn't doing any better than his father. While he was indeed allowed the freedom to explore Wolf's compound, he had to stay within thirty feet of Luna Lovegood at all times. Sometimes she would trail along after him, lost in her world, but more often she wandered off and Draco found himself getting drowsy and had to find her again. Luckily, he had a sixth sense about where she was at all times.

He learned to treasure and cherish the times when Luna Lovegood was silent and staring with those oversized eyes of hers.

Luna liked to go on and on about fanciful creatures that probably didn't exist even in the Wizarding World; when Draco consistently pointed this out, she countered with a simple, Muggles don't see our world, and we can't see theirs.

When asked why she was given this oh so wondrous gift, Luna just looked at him with those eyes of hers.

And, okay, it wasn't all bad. Once Draco figured out that laughing at her and humoring her was better than trying to tell her she was dead wrong, life improved. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't laugh, internally or out loud. And it was relaxing, glimpsing Luna's far-off world, so separate from this one and with none of the pain felt here.

In return, Draco brought her back to Earth a bit. He had a feeling that, since her father had died, Luna had nothing tying her down and her mind, like a balloon, was floating away. Her smiles were a lot less vacant, her gaze less misty. She walked towards most things, and didn't just wander into them.

But this transition, this change, did not happen overnight, and we are getting ahead of ourselves.

* * *

**Sinister**

"Don't you think it's a trap?" Ron asked Dumbledore, handing the note back to the old man.

"I would, if not for three things. One, the apparition coordinates lead to a place we already suspect to be a hideout of Voldemort's. Two, the White Wolf - and I'm sure this note is from him - has never shown any inclination to attack the Order, the Army, or indeed anyone but Voldemort. And three, Fawkes would not have carried it if the one sending it did not have certain intentions in mind when they called him."

"Can we really trust Fawkes, though? With something this big? I mean, he is just a bird... And doesn't it bother you that the Wolf can apparently call your phoenix to him at will?"

"Anyone can call Fawkes's name and he will hear it. And more so than even most animals, he is very perceptive when it comes to intentions and a person's heart. He likes you."

"I'm still not convinced."

"What will convince you, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, giving Ron a wise look. Ron wasn't sure how one looked wise - the beard and half moon spectacles probably helped - but Dumbledore managed.

"I don't know."

"Then you cannot be convinced, can you? You are not willing to be. So I am laying it out for you: go or do not. The Order is going. The Army... That's up to you, now isn't it?"

"I hate this." Ron said suddenly. He had been standing nearly at attention in front of Dumbledore's desk and now slumped into a plush chair, head in his hands. "I hate having their lives in my hands and knowing that every single one who dies does so because I ordered him to. We lost Terry Boot two days ago. I found Hannah Abbot crying over a picture of him and I couldn't - I couldn't do _anything_. Nothing. I just stood there and she looked up and she..."

"She blamed you?" Dumbledore suggested for him when he trailed off.

"No! I wish she had. It would've been easier, you know? But she just looked at me and I still couldn't do anything. I just... stood there. I practically killed him and she was crying and I - I. Did. Nothing. I'm doing _nothing_. I couldn't even help her."

"Mr. Weasley. Ron." Something in Dumbledore's voice made Ron sit up and look at him. "Where would Terry Boot be, right now, if your Army had never formed?"

"I don't know - at home, I guess, or on the run or something."

"Do you think he'd be alive? Do you think the people your Army has saved would be alive without them? Do you think this war would still be happening or would Voldemort have won already? What I mean to say is, never forget this feeling. Never let people become numbers. But don't take the blame when no one else, not a one, is trying to put it on you."

"But if - "

"What ifs are pointless time-wasters, Mr. Weasley. The muggles have a theory of dimensions in which everything that could possibly be, every reality that can be imagined and an infinite amount that can't be, all exist. If you spend all your time thinking about these other realities and not about your own, you will not truly exist in any world."

Ron was silent for a long time.

At length, he got up and made for the door. One hand on the brass knob, he paused and looked down and to the side, the headmaster's office in the corner of his eye. "...Thank you, Professor Dumbledore." For listening. For treating me like I know what I'm doing.

"It was no trouble at all." Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling.

In Ron's other hand was a copy of the apparition coordinates.

* * *

**Lights**

Voldemort's inspirational speech ended in cheers and war cries from his followers. Their morale was instantly boosted.

So why was there a sickening, nervous feeling in his stomach?

The Wolf's Hunt, the Army, and the Order came in a massive wave, gunshot pops cascading across the main ballroom. The wards, nearly on par with Hogwarts's, fell in an instant under the onslaught. Moments later, another, stronger apparition ward snapped into place, targeting everyone with a Mark and spanning the area for miles around.

No one would be getting out tonight.

The cheering of mere moments before turned to screams of surprise - and then pain. Over a thousand Death Eaters were in attendance, unmasked and almost wholly unprepared. Seven hundred Hunters, Soldiers, and Order members, armed to the teeth and taking no prisoners, set upon them with a vengeance.

It was almost a massacre in the first few minutes, until the Death Eaters found their wands and rallied together into actual ranks. Then the fighting got _really _bloody.

* * *

**Love**

Bellatrix Lestrange laughed as she cast killing curses at anyone not wearing Death Eater black.

Ron Weasley cut down three men from behind with the same spell that had sliced through the training dummies.

Blaise Zabini found Lucius Malfoy among the Death Eaters and, just before casting the final _Avada Kadavra_, paused to tell the man his son was safe with the Wolf. He then went to find Narcissa and tell her the same thing - and give her the same end.

Alecto and Amycus Carrow, standing back-to-back and firing off curses every other second, shared one Avada between them - cast by Molly Weasley.

On the other side of the massive room, Fred, George, and Charlie Weasley were on brooms, dropping over-powered stink-bombs that both choked and cut visibility down to absolute zero - and killed the sense of smell on everyone unfortunate enough to inhale it.

Dean Thomas smiled beneath her wolf mask as, with a simple incendius sol, fire exploded from the tip of her wand in a jet - heading right for Crabbe and Goyle, Sr.s and Jr.s both.

In the midst of all this happening at once, one man in a white cloak and grinning wolf mask walked at a measured pace through the crowd. Spells bounced off his shields and returned to their casters. People dove out of his way or were sent flying.

The man went straight for the dais, where Lord Voldemort watched his men die.

* * *

**Only Power**

There were three steps; the White Wolf paused at the top of them, until Voldemort noticed the one spot of utter calm in this sea of chaos.

"You." The Dark Lord said, venom nearly dripping from the word.

"Me." The White Wolf agreed.

"Any last words? Maybe you'd like to show me your face?"

"And maybe I wouldn't." Wolf said. "This is the second time. That we've met, I mean, face-to-face."

"So?" Voldemort's shields were almost at full strength, he would start their duel soon. He was stalling.

"So bad things come in threes, that's what we believe, isn't it? We're very superstitious people, you and I."

Unnerved, more than a little off balance (not scared, never scared) Voldemort wondered how this man could know - or assume to know - so much about him. "You're wrong."

"Just remember, my Lord Voldemort, that when there is only power, the most powerful man rules all of the others."

The green light, accompanied by the sound of wings, sped through the space the White Wolf had occupied half a second before. The sound of laughter would haunt Voldemort for the rest of his life.


	5. Part Five

Liar, Liar Part Five

* * *

**Mania**

The signal for retreat came to Blaise Zabini in the form of a red flashing light in the corner of his mask's eye hole. He apparated out in the blink of an eye, abandoning his duel with a Death Eater. Back at base, more gun shot cracks heralded his comrades coming in around him.

The raid had been a resounding success. Voldemort's forces had taken a crippling blow.

Wolf was absent from the celebration, and it surpassed no one's notice.

The others, who hadn't been ready for such a battle, gathered around them for news. As he was speaking, Blaise kept looking for that one head of frizzy brown hair and finally spotted Hermione making her way towards him.

"Hermione! You should have been there, it was amazing! They didn't even know what hit them!" Blaise paused here, for the first time noting that Hermione didn't look as excited as everyone else around them. Her face was serious, all business. Disappointingly, he realized she must want to talk about her insane plan.

"Blaise, come with me when you have time." Hermione said. "To my room. We have to talk."

Blaise had thought Hermione didn't even know where her room was, with how little time she'd spent there.

"Can't you be happy for once?" He asked. "Can't you be like us for just a little bit, or are we that disgusting to you?"

The laughter and talking had died out around them, as people took note of a fight brewing among them.

"Blaise." Hermione said.

"No! Hermione, you need to realize there's more to life than what you're doing. There is a world outside your books and you're not living in it." And before she could respond, before he could give anything more away, Blaise turned and walked away.

* * *

**Dementia**

When the Hunt retreated, the Death Eaters threatened to overwhelm the Order and the Army. Ron, soaring overhead on a broom to command the different squads around the room, blew two short, sharp notes and apparated out. The Death Eaters suddenly found themselves without any more opponents.

All around the gates of Hogwarts, people were popping in. The Army immediately assembled itself into neat four-by-four squares, with horrible, black gaps taking up space between two people where someone should be. Only one lost, and many, many injured. That was a good day, in Ron's book. Not a great one, but good.

"Let's go." He said, waving a hand. Still in formation, they began their march up to the castle while the Order was still taking attendance. "Anybody who can't walk can take a broom with Fred, George, and Charlie."

Suddenly, a lot of people could walk.

Pomphrey wasn't happy about the sudden influx of patients, but she took them. Neville, one the receiving end of many curses meant for Ron, was the worst off. He was missing a good portion of his flesh, the rest was covered in boils, and his entire right arm was hanging by a thread.

It was still a good day, Ron said to himself.

Someone almost bled out before Pomphrey got to him, but a blood-replenishing potion saved his life.

Still a good day.

Another started seizing – on instinct, Ron shoved a bezoar down her throat. He remembered seeing her get hit with a poison-purple spell. The seizures stopped but the effect was only delayed. She was Pomphrey's next patient.

Still a good day.

When everyone was done and healed and the mediwitch retreated to her office to rest, Ron stopped in to thank her for patching them up. He stopped with the door half-open, watched her place her head in her hands and release all the pent-up emotions: sobbing and laughing together, hysterics 'til it hurt to do anything anymore.

It hadn't been a good day at all.

* * *

**Goddess**

_The Druids weren't a very social race,_ the book begins. _Little is known about their culture or even how human they actually were, but some things remain. Their rituals, specializing in nature and the soul and the body, live on in archaic scrolls and the inscriptions on the ruins of their ritual circles, such as Stonehenge. They were the first to utilize ley lines and the magic that exists in all things as life..._

* * *

**Believe**

So out of touch was she that Hermione hadn't even known Luna was one of the people assigned to a prisoner. She found Luna in her usual spot, on the roof, but next to the misty girl was a boy it took her a second to recognize. He'd changed much since the last time she'd seen him, and he wasn't wearing green and silver, but that was definitely Draco Malfoy.

"Luna, can we talk? In private." She added frostily, seeing Malfoy not about to move.

"I'll stay close." He promised Luna, then went down the roof a ways. Hermione, about about to forget years of taunting, imagined him slipping and falling off the roof. She was still angry and smarting from Blaise's blowup at her.

"If he's ever mean to you, Luna, or threatens you, or does anything you don't like, you can come to me. I'll make him stop." Hermione said, one hand on Luna's arm gently.

"Oh, Draco's not really like that." Luna said. "He's nice, if a bit dense and strange, at times. He wouldn't hurt me."

"Just… if he ever does. But that's not why I came to find you. I need your help."

She explained again why she thought Wolf was Harry who was Riddle but actually Harry. At the end, Luna pierced her with a knowing look.

"Harry is not the dominant spirit just yet." Luna told her. "But he's fighting, he's always fighting. Harry won't give up as long as people he cares about are on the line – and he does care about you, you and Ron, and what you could have been…."

Confused and not the least bit disturbed, Hermione remained silent.

"Face him thrice, kill him twice, love him only once." Luna sing-songed. "Of this you can be sure:

"No one is his master."

* * *

**Murderer**

Tom Riddle had found two of the seven Horcruxes, knew that two resided within his body, and one within Voldemort's snake, and one was in Dumbledore's possession. That left one of the seven to be collected – and he would be the first to get it.

The cup, Tom thought. It was either the cup or the diadem, and he knew where both were.

One was outside his reach – the diadem in the Room of Requirement would have to wait until he wanted to take the time to get into Hogwarts. Until then, the cup was in Gringotts, where he knew he could get it because the older him had already set a plan for it into place and he only needed to put it into action. With all the Horcruxes but himself destroyed, Tom Riddle would hold Voldemort's so-called immortality in the palm of his hand, and he would crush the Dark Lord.

There was only room for one master of the Wizarding World.

* * *

**Reality**

Harry surfaced for the first time in a long while to see his body escaping Gringotts on a Firebolt. While not the strangest thing he'd found Riddle doing, it was certainly up there. And in such a precarious position, he didn't dare push for control.

But he wasn't going to slip back into the nothingness, either.

_What are we doing?_

_I think you mean, what have I been doing since you went to sleep._

_I didn't go to sleep, you nearly killed me!_

_And yet you're still here. Pity._

Tom veered and narrowly missed a flock of birds.

_Stop distracting me. Why won't you just die? You're never going to win. I'm always going to be stronger than you._

"I'm strong enough." Harry said, taking over the mouth momentarily. The broom jerked to the side, startled, and then Riddle seized control again.

"You'll pay for that." He said.

_There is nothing you can do that will hurt me anymore._ Harry taunted. _I'll stop you if you try._

Or you could be in so much pain you can't even think straight, as I'm torturing your little friends to death. Not Hermione, she's valuable. But that Ronald, he'll be a problem when I take power. He might challenge me. He'll have to go - sooner rather than later.

_No!_ Harry screamed, suddenly desperate. He shouldn't have baited Riddle, should know the man enough by now to realize that it would only escalate. _I'll stop you! Don't!_

_Maybe I will, maybe I won't. But in the meantime, you've been a very unpleasant host..._

Harry didn't give him the satisfaction of mental screaming, even if it made the pain last that much longer.

* * *

**Elder**

_Ron,_ the letter began.

_I don't know if this one will get through or not - it's another new combination of charms, because the last six didn't work. Wolf's wards are so tied up I didn't think I'd ever get through. I'm sorry I couldn't write you sooner, I wish (here, 'I could leave' is crossed out and replaced with) I could be with you right now but I'm needed more here. There's so much to tell you, I hardly know where to start._

_Wolf is Voldemort in Harry's body. The younger version thinks the older version is insane and Riddle's trying to rule the world a different way, through ways other than fear. I've found something, though, a Druidic ritual that will separate the souls in Harry's body and leave only one behind. I've copied out that part of the book onto this letter at the bottom._

_Other than that, there are a lot of people in Wolf's compound. Myself and Luna Lovegood, Blaise Zabini (he'll be helping me with the ritual, we need four) and Draco Malfoy, who's actually not so bad outside of school. He's mellowed out a lot and stopped parroting his father every other sentence, which may or may not have to do with the fact that Blaise killed his parents. I don't even know if Malfoy knows that. And you think he'll never change and he'll always be a horrible person, but I'm not so sure._

_I hope the Army is doing okay, and that you're doing okay. Keep yourself alive and well Ron Weasley, or I'll kill you myself. Don't worry too much about me, Wolf isn't around all that often and Harry's still there, I know he is, and he's fighting. He won't let anything happen to me._

_I almost forgot to mention, Sirius Black showed up here in disguise, but his polyjuice wore off and I had to get him away fast. Wolf doesn't even know, which proves that we can keep secrets from him. Sirius is going to help me with the ritual as well._

_I have one last thing to ask you, one more favor. Next to the text from the book is a diagram of a circle I need you to draw, in large scale, on the grounds of Hogwarts. A fist-sized stone at each point of the star, don't forget._

_Love, Hermione._

_...They were the first to utilize ley lines and the magic that exists in all things as life. The Druids primarily used four-pointed stars in their rituals, unlike the later five points. Each vertex represented an element, fire, earth, air and water. At the center of the star was the power connecting all of these, known as magic, soul, or ether._

* * *

**Teeth**

Ron put down the letter only when his eyes were stinging, either from tears or staring too long. He had read it over and over and over again, drinking up the words she had sent to him. She was okay. She was alive. She didn't seem to be a prisoner.

"Professor?" Ron said, wavering in the doorway.

"Please, Mr. Weasley, you're practically one of my teachers. Call me Albus. Was there something you needed to discuss?"

"Kind of. I got this letter from Hermione." Without a word more, he handed it over. When Dumbledore's fingers creased it slightly his eye twitched and he almost snapped at the man to be more careful with it.

Dumbledore gave the snippet at the bottom a second glance and then returned it. Ron was entirely too happy to have it back.

"Do you know anything else, Mr. Weasley?"

"This is it... Albus." That felt incredibly weird. Ron thought he might stick with Professor.

"Then I suggest we do as she says. I daresay Miss Granger is the most intelligent witch I've ever known, and we should trust that she knows what she's doing."

"Somehow, I don't think she'd agree."

* * *

**Isle**

Voldemort could never forget Hogwarts, not a single thing about her. He knew his old school as well as he knew himself and, in his own way, loved it like he had never loved anything before. In his mind, Hogwarts was a symbol of everything great in the world, his safe haven when he was a child and his prize as conqueror of the Wizarding World. Hogwarts would fall last because that honor had always belonged to her.

Dumbledore would die defending her, and Voldemort would gain all three Hallows and his beloved home all at once. It would be a true victory worthy only of him, the Master of Death.

* * *

**Denizen**

"Blaise?" Hermione said, stopping in the doorway with the door half-open. She was still depending on him for the ritual, but if he was too mad, or if he didn't want to anymore…. She didn't know who she'd get to take his place. Ron was at Hogwarts and she didn't know any more of Wolf's people.

"Hermione…" The ex-Slytherin hesitated."Come in."

"Are – Are you okay?" She asked, taking one, two, three steps into the room, and every one felt like an intrusion.

"I'm fine. I just – just. I don't know."

Another step, the hardest one yet. Blaise finally turned to face her. "Blaise."

"Hermione, I – I think you're really great. I like you."

Hermione froze, and Blaise tumbled on, all of his usual elegance and superiority forgotten.

"And I know it'd never work, you have Weasley or even Potter when you get him back. It's just kind of difficult to get around it. But I will. I'll still help you."

"Blaise… I don't know what I'm supposed to say here."

"You don't even really have to say anything. It's just, easier having you know. It's easier."

"Well. Okay, I guess."

Blaise search for a way to distract, change the topic. "…Oh! Wolf's got another attack planned. Actually, his spies with Voldemort said the old man is planning an attack on Hogwarts, despite that ball we crashed a few days ago. Wolf's going to intercept it. We're thinking it might be the final battle – the Battle of Hogwarts."

Hermione's hunch had paid off, and the circle was being drawn right at the site of the final showdown. She didn't know how she'd get Riddle and Harry standing in the center, but that could come later.

"Then I'm going to that one, as are you and Luna. And someone else you have to meet."

* * *

**Carrion**

"You don't have to go to this one, Luna." Draco insisted, one hand on the girl's shoulder. She looked at him through the mirror, her big eyes hidden behind a wolf mask.

"But I do." She said. "The wind has been whispering about this one for weeks. The earth is trembling with it. The world is holding its breath for this event to unfold."

"All the more reason for you to stay here. If it's so important, someone else can go."

"We all are pawns, little dragon, to play our own parts. Free will is no illusion, but it has to be earned."

"You're not making any sense, Luna. Please, you could die!"

She turned around to look at him head on, and he could just see her wide, vacant smile. "On, little dragon, on to the next great adventure. Who will play the hero in this fairy's tale?"

* * *

**Amazon**

When Wolf apparated into Hogwarts with the Hunt in tow, Voldemort had already brought the wards crashing down and was laying siege to the castle. Wizards fought on the ground; in the air, thestrals and veela clashed, owls dropped bombs. The Dark's trolls were tied up in the Light's Acromantula webs.

Lights zipped from behind barriers of stone and earth, ripped the ground to shreds and screamed through the air. The rush of wings and waterfalls never truly left the ears before it was renewed with another green light. The gunshot of apparition echoed everywhere, entire squads of the Army appearing and disappearing in unison and taking down at least three Death Eaters with every jump.

All around, there was screaming.

Mediwitches and –wizards rushed from body to body, unconcerned for affiliation. They were left mostly alone, but every once in a while a Death Eater with no other target would try to take a shot at one.

The Army, easily the most disciplined force present, showed impressive coordination. Their commander flew on a broom overhead, swerving around spells and blowing his whistle almost constantly.

Hermione moved into the fray, shooting off spells at anyone in a Death mask and searching for the circle she hoped Ron had drawn. It should have been pretty well-hidden, and hopefully undisturbed.

Blaise dove in headfirst, glad for an outlet of energy. After repressing everything around Hermione for so long, it felt good to let it out. He sent off three curses in quick succession and threw up a shield in time to catch a stunner, then dove out of the way of a green light that turned out to be just a deafening hex.

Sirius tailed Hermione closely, shielding her as she toed the ground, searching for the circle.

"Where would you have put it, Ron." She muttered, and then it came to her. Two things, actually. That Ron would have put it near Greenhouse 3, where they'd shared their first kiss and talked about forming the Army at the same time, and that Ron was very likely flying above her right this moment.

She looked up. Among the veela, the thestrals, the owls - and was that a dragon? - there were a few wizards on brooms. Only one was blowing that distinctive whistle only the Army could hear.

Hermione almost called out to him, almost cried for the joy of seeing him again, but as he dodged a green spell she caught herself. She would distract him, and he, her. She had a purpose here.

With a purposeful stride and a strong shield, she set out for the greenhouses.

* * *

**Titans**

Wolf faced Voldemort again, for the third time. And this was the last, he was sure. Defeat - not an option. It was victory only. Nothing else could happen here.

Voldemort didn't waste time with taunts, didn't try to get him talking. The duel started the moment Wolf stepped up and would end in death.

"Your Horcruxes are gone, Voldemort." Wolf said. "You're mortal again." Except for me. "This is where you finally die."

"No! I am immortal! I cannot die - I will be Master of Death."

Wolf dodged three spells and sent his own back. He ducked behind a shield of transfigured rock in time to have it blasted apart.

"Stop hiding, little wolf." Voldemort said. "Come on out - these aren't puppy games we're playing, you know."

"I know." Wolf said from behind Voldemort. The man spun, and Wolf attacked from the direction he had been facing, glad to have thought to learn the voice-throwing charm. Voldemort barely deflected the bone-breaker.

"But do you know, Lord Voldemort," Wolf's voice said from all around them. His lips were forming cutters and stunners, the words out of tune with the mouth. "Who it is that's going to defeat you tonight?"

"The little coward is going to stop hiding behind masks?" Voldemort asked, hiding his unease. Psychological warfare worked even against monsters. "I'll finally get to see your face - right before I kill you."

Wolf avoided a killing curse but jumped right into the path of an imperius.

_Drop your wand._

"That won't work on me, old man. I'm stronger than you'll ever be." Wolf shrugged the curse off and jumped away from a crucio. "And I'm going to kill you."

"Only mortal men can die."

"Only mortal men can live." Wolf retorted, throwing his voice again. "Don't you feel that thing in your chest, Voldemort? It feels hollow. It feels like rotting from the inside - that's death, Lord Voldemort, and you, pieces of you, are already dead. You've got one foot in Death's door already."

"No!"

"Yes! And I will be the one to send you there." With a gunshot crack, Wolf appeared in front of the man, mask pushed to the side of his head. It revealed killing-curse green eyes, midnight hair, and a lightning-bolt scar.

"Harry Potter." Voldemort half-whispered. "It can't be."

"Oh, but it _is_." Wolf said with a vicious smile. "And that power you know not - yeah, I know it, and yeah, it's pretty damn _great_."

The fight had ripped up the ground and driven them away from the main battle, all the way out to the greenhouses.

"Come on, Lord Voldemort," Wolf taunted. He was breathing deeply, but Voldemort was panting with every breath, almost wheezing. "Make this easy on both of us." He started casting, one spell after another, giving the Lord no time to recover, barely any time to block. "Show. Me. How. You. _Die_." With every word he fired off more and more lethal spells. On the last word, a blue blood-boiler was followed in milliseconds by a green light and the sound of wings. Voldemort panicked, threw up a shield - and the killing curse shattered it.

It seemed to connect in slow motion, starting at the chest and spreading a sickly green glow over Voldemort's body. Wolf could see the surprise, and the fear as Voldemort faded away. He would become little more than a shade, not even capable of possession now that five-sevenths of his soul resided in the afterlife.

Wolf laughed, and took one step toward the body. In a single moment, he saw three things:

Hermione, Luna, Sirius, and Blaise standing in a perfect four-pointed star around him, stones at their feet.

The array he'd just stepped into the center of.

And the triumphant smile on Hermione Granger's face as the four leaned down, touched their wand tips to the stones, and whispered _Exorciate _in unison.

Then, there was only light.

* * *

**Nether**

_Light. Memories of one, two, three lives we have lived. People - red red red. Mother, father, protection. The will to survive - the will to protect._

_Darkness. Ripping. Tearing. A _separation _- we are two._

_Hatred and anger and beauty. Gold and redBLOOD. LovePAIN. HateFORGIVE. Letting go._

_No, fighting. The will to live and protect. The will to dominate, to live on, to be better. Love. Fight, struggle, live on be alive this is life this is precious not to be wasted or thrown away._

_Debts to be paid. Giving, growing, spreading. Life. Light._

_Light._

_Light._

_Light..._

Darkness.

* * *

**Truth**

"He's waking up!" A voice said next to Wolf's head. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to the hospital wing in Hogwarts. Home.

The voice belonged to Hermione Granger, sitting next to his bed and looking like she'd been there for a while. Around him were others - Albus Dumbledore, Ron Weasley, Blaise, Luna, Sirius, more Weasleys, what seemed like the entire Order and Army.

"I can remember a day much like this one, many years ago." Dumbledore said. "Let us hope this one ends better. Mr... Wolf, we have veritaserum right here. At the suggestion of the young Miss Granger, we think it will prove which soul remains in the body."

Wolf nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

The veritaserum slid down his throat like syrup, just four drops - more than enough, but a precaution.

"Who are you?" Dumbledore asked. "Which soul resides in the body of Harry Potter?"

The entire room, it seemed, held its breath. Luna began to hum something light and airy.

"I'm Harry Potter." Harry said, finally breaking into a face-splitting grin. "And it's great to see you all again."

* * *

**Liar, Liar**

An hour later, Madame Pomphrey had shoved all his guests out the door and ordered him to get some rest - but Harry didn't feel like sleeping. He'd just gotten his body back, and he wanted to enjoy it. He wanted to go flying, or run around the grounds like a madman. He wanted to jump and bounce off the walls.

He wanted to see his face and know he was in full control of it.

There was a mirror above the sink in the bathroom. Harry stared into it for an eternity, tracing the structure - so much like his father's - and his bright eyes, and he needed a haircut soon, and a shave. He started laughing, one hand on the cool mirror and the other on the side of his face.

_You look a lot like me._ An all-too-familiar voice whispered in his ear.

"No!" Harry jerked, turning around. But there was no one there. "You're gone! You're dead."

_Mostly._ Riddle's voice said in his mind. _But you know, I'm very hard to kill. I'm just an echo of the real thing. You'll absorb me soon enough._

_Then what do you want? What do you want from me?_

_Harry, Harry, I'm still partially Voldemort, you know. I still want power and I still want to live on in some form or another. You're going to be my successor. _

_No! I'll never do the things you did. I will never be like you!_

_You say it now, but can't you feel it? Near the end, we weren't entirely different people anymore. I like to think you redeemed me a little. I like to think I corrupted you even more._

_No!_

_Don't deny it. Already you think differently from your friends - you think that some people deserve different things. Whether it is death or power, you fancy yourself judge, jury, and executioner._

_No._

_Harry, Harry, I'm in your mind. I can see it even if you refuse to. The Darkness. It feels good, doesn't it? Who doesn't like feeling powerful?_

_I'm never going to use Dark magic. That was you. That was always you!_

_Keep telling yourself that, Harry, and you might someday believe it. I'll always know different._

_I'm not Dark._

_Of course not, Harry. There is no Dark and no Light. There is only power and the intent to use it, and you have both of those in spades._

_I'll never... never._

_Yes you will, because nothing will ever be good enough until people are bowing at your feet._

_No..._

_Yes.  
_


End file.
